Invasion
by Coneflower Adams
Summary: Being stationed on a secret barren planet can become a bit boring. Sergeant Calhoun is in need of a distraction, but she gets more than what she bargains for.


The barren wasteland of Planet X isn't exactly where Sergeant Tamora Jean Calhoun imagined she would be stationed, but this is the card that fate dealt her. Sometimes unexpectedly, ash rains down thick making it hard to see and leads to coughing spells. Calhoun knows this can't be good for her health, but wearing a helmet continuously isn't a habit she wishes to practice. Being a space marine is possibly the most dangerous job in the military, so an ash-clogged atmosphere is the least of Calhoun's worries.

Her rotation has her on perimeter check, which is perfectly okay with her. Riding her cruiser gives her time to be alone, a welcomed privilege that she rarely encounters on the small base. Perimeter checks are usually uneventful. There are no other lifeforms on Planet X, but it is procedure to keep the base safe from any unexpected visitors who may stumble upon the secret planet.

Calhoun peers across the horizon, the barren landscape fading into grey. Seeing no disturbances, she concluded that the last round of her check is complete and calls in her report. Instead of heading back to base, she smirks to herself deciding that a few fun maneuvers on her cruiser wouldn't hurt.

Calhoun blasts forward then curves up, pointing the nose of the board skyward and grabbing onto it. She rides the cruiser until she can go no further before evening out and shooting back downward. As she glides down, something doesn't feel right and with only a second's warning, the cruiser stalls and Calhoun is plummeting to the surface.

She quickly finds the emergency thrusters, pressing them just before meeting the ground. The engine comes to life, and Calhoun tilts the nose before hitting the ground; the cruiser zooms forward.

Her cruiser has stalled before, but this time she came too close to being killed. Her heart is pounding and the blood rushing to her head makes her lightheaded, but Calhoun's body begins to calm as she thanks the powers that be for not being squashed into the terrain. She returns to base, knowing she can't put off getting her board checked any longer.

* * *

He's not much to look at, but she's told the base's handyman, dubbed _Fix-It_ , can fix nearly anything. He's the jack-of-all-trades, repairing anything from an escape pod to the mess hall's toaster and even the pesky electronic sliding doors that need greasing constantly.

Her cruiser has been giving her fits lately, stalling at some highly dangerous moments, and Calhoun doesn't need her life at risk more than it already is. That's what leads her to his humble little part of the base.

The sliding door is open to the shop and Calhoun lets herself in. For a handyman and mechanic, Fix-It's shop is very neat. Everything has a place, and the floor is clear of any ash or garbage. Calhoun has deemed it the cleanest place on the entire base, even cleaner than the mess hall – which is a sad reckoning.

She's wondering where the handyman himself is. "Sergeant Calhoun!" a southern accent from a place she'd never been to catches her ear and there's Fix-It emerging from a door in the back.

He isn't much to look at; shorter than every one of her soldiers and stands just to her shoulder. His features are rather boyish and Calhoun wonders how old this supposedly seasoned handyman is. His simple blue button up, jeans, and baseball cap contribute to his role as _Leave it to Beaver_. He dons a tool belt around his waist, but the only tool that catches her eye is a shiny hammer hanging from a loop. Why would this man have any use for a hammer when there was no wood for lightyears?

She shakes off her thoughts as Fix-It speaks, "How can I help you, ma'am?"

"This thing," Calhoun slides the folded cruiser from her shoulder, setting it on Fix-It workbench, "nearly got me killed earlier when it stalled in mid-air."

"Oh my land," Fix-It gasps, "Are you okay? Were you injured?"

Calhoun waves off his concern. "I'm fine. It restarted before I came close to the ground, but next time I may not be so lucky. Can you take a look at it?"

"Of course, ma'am!" A bright smile beams from Fix-It's face as he declares, "I can fix it!"

Calhoun tries to cover up a chuckle with a 'hmph'. Was he for real? The man had his own catch phrase.

Fix-It informs her he'd take a look at the cruiser pronto. Calhoun leaves, saying she'll be back after maneuvers have ended for the day. She cannot explain why, but as she goes about her day with Fix-It popping up in her mind like one of those whack-a-mole games. She's barely spent any time around the man, but this brief encounter has her intrigued.

Calhoun bops the thoughts away with her imaginary mallet, but another thought of Fix-It always replaces it.

* * *

When Calhoun returns from her daily duties, she's surprised to find Fix-It hovering about four feet from the ground on her cruiser. She can tell he's never ridden a board; his arms are stuck out like he's about to walk a balance beam and his stance is far too stiff to be an experienced rider.

She stops before he can catch her movements, and watches him for a few moments, planting a hand on her hip. A small smile creeps onto her lips. Calhoun doesn't know what it is about this humble handyman that has caught her attention so fiercely on this day, but whatever it may be, she's having a hard time ignoring it and honestly, she's finding that she doesn't wish to.

"I better not catch you going for a joy ride."

Fix-It's eyes lock onto her, and he nearly tips the nose of the cruiser over in his surprise. He corrects his balance before landing the board and hopping off.

"Sorry about that," Calhoun says, stepping closer.

"It's okay, ma'am." Fix-It flashes a reassuring smile. "Good thing I have quick reflexes."

"Did you find the problem?"

Fix-It readjusts his cap as he answers, "There was a short in the thruster cores. I changed it out and it shouldn't give you any more hiccups, ma'am."

"Thanks, Fix-It." Calhoun steps on the cruiser, standing on it as if it were solid ground.

"Just stop on by if you have anything else that needs fixin', Miss Calhoun."

She is about to take off, but she can't bring herself to leave the handyman's company. Calhoun peers over her shoulder at Fix-It, a playful feeling tingling on her skin. "Wanna go for a ride?"

Fix-It's eyes widen as he uncrosses his arms slowly. "Uh," a grin creeps onto his face as he eases into the offer, "Sure, why not."

Calhoun offers her hand, and Fix-It accepts it as he hops onto the board. His steel-toed boots cling to the magnetic force inside the surface, keeping him at least attached to the cruiser; whether he stays upright or not while in motion is a different story.

"Hold on," Calhoun warns to which she hears Fix-It ask innocently, "To what?" But the cruiser shoots off without an answer from her. A yelp and two hands clinging onto her waist follow their take off.

Calhoun holds down a chuckle, glancing back at her passenger. Fix-It meets her eyes, glaring playfully at her. "Miss Calhoun, if you wanted to get closer to me, you could have just asked," he says in the most polite way she's ever heard anyone joke.

Calhoun slows the cruiser down, and Fix-It lets up his grip on her waist. "I'm more of woman of action than a talker."

Fix-It laughs, such a good-natured guy. "This is quite possibly the most interesting moment I've had since being stationed here."

Calhoun can tell Fix-It is more confident in his balance as they cruise at a comfortable speed. His death grip has loosened to the point that she can barely feel his hands wrapped around her waist. As they glide along, Fix-It clears his throat, "Please excuse me, ma'am, but I didn't ask permission to use you as a safely bar."

"I did warn you to hang on, Fix-It. What'd you think I was telling you to hold on to?" Calhoun can't believe she's actually flirting with this man, but it feels exhilarating to act like a normal person instead of a hardcore sergeant for once.

She glances at him over her shoulder again, catching the bright cherry color shading Fix-It's cheeks. Calhoun can't remember ever seeing a grown man blush. If that color were to stain any of her soldiers' faces, she would have secondhand embarrassment, but she finds it endearing and rather cute on Fix-It.

The ash-laden landscape isn't much to throw a stone at, but on one of her perimeter checks, Calhoun has found a ridge overlooking the endless gray plains of the planet. The view is not attractive, by any means, but there is one perk: it's the best view of the double moon that hangs in the distance.

As far as Calhoun knows, no other inhabitant stationed at the base has ever found the ridge. She feels it's time to share her discovery.

Fix-It's expression of wonder says it all as she hovers to a landing on the rocky surface. They hop off the cruiser; Calhoun powering it down. "I didn't think there was anything worth a gander on this planet," Fix-it comments, switching his hat forward again.

"That's what I thought too until I found this view."

"It's really nice of you for bringing me out here, Miss Calhoun," Fix-It is so genuine, it almost hurts.

They gaze at the double moon for a long moment, enjoying the companionable silence. Calhoun is the first to glance away, her eye catching the hammer hanging on Fix-It's tool belt. "What's with the hammer? It's not like we have a whole lot of construction around here."

Fix-It's hand finds the hammerhead without even a look down. He pulls the tool out, tossing it into the air and catches it with ease. "This was my daddy's hammer." He gives it an affectionate gaze, memories playing behind his eyes. "He was construction worker almost all his life. Taught me everything he knew. I like to keep him close, so I don't go anywhere without his hammer."

By the tone of Fix-it's voice and the words he says, Calhoun assumes that his father is no longer living, though she doesn't voice her assumption. Subjects like this are hard to discuss and she is in no position to cover it.

Thankfully, Fix-It switches back to his happy-go-lucky self and smiles at her with a brightness that can only rival the sun. "Do you sneak out here on occasions?"

"If I'm scheduled for perimeter check, I'll make a quick stop out here. Every now and then my mind needs a break from routine."

"Everyone needs a little R'n'R sometimes."

Calhoun hmphs knowing all too well that there isn't anywhere on this forsaken planet to have decent R'n'R; though some rather risqué thoughts are crossing her mind at the moment. "I need a distraction from the mundane. Nothing exciting has happened on this hunk of rock since we arrived 5 months ago."

"I wouldn't claim to be a step above mundane," Fix-It tips his hat, "but I'm happy to be of service if I can, Miss Calhoun."

She can't hold back the urge any longer, and Calhoun finds her lips pressed firmly against Fix-It's. The handyman doesn't return the affection at first, the unexpected kiss catching him off guard, but he quickly recovers and melts into the touch of her lips.

Calhoun smiles against his lips as she feels Fix-It's hands cup her cheeks. Her fingers glide up the back of his work shirt, finding the exposed skin above his collar and ticking his hairline. Fix-It squirms and pulls away for air. He searches her eyes for an explanation, but all Calhoun can do is smirk.

"Jiminy jaminy, Miss Calhoun."

"Tamora," she corrects, "none of this ma'am or Miss Calhoun mumbo jumbo when we're alone together." She encourages him with smile. "Give yourself more credit than that, Fix-it. I'd hardly call you a step above mundane; you're far above that."

A bashful look crosses Fix-It's face. "If you say so, ma'am." He catches the word he just says and adds softly, "I mean, Tamora."

This time, Fix-It leans in for a kiss, and Tamora gladly accepts. Being stationed on a barren wasteland of a planet to secure a secret experimental facility can get to be maddening, but Sergeant Tamora Jean Calhoun thinks she's found the outlet to keeping her sanity.


End file.
